The Tree That Fell in the Woods
by bloodwrites
Summary: Season 7 fic: Brennan is pregnant, a little girl is dead, and Thanksgiving is nothing like it should be until Booth gets a wake-up call from his partner.


**_So, this is my latest Bones-y effort, which I posted on my website last week. For those of you waiting anxiously for Apprentice on the Island, the next chapter of that will be included in my BW/BloodWrites Fanfiction Journal on January 1st, at which point I'll be updating regularly (I swear - really) until the end. If you haven't subscribed yet, you should definitely do so - just mosey on over to www[dot]bloodwritesfanfiction[dot]com, and click that big red SUBSCRIBE button. You'll get my weekly newsletter with a new fic (not always Bones, just so y'know) each week and other random ramblings from the mind o' Jen. And with that... I'll stop babbling and get to the fic. _**

"You'd think we could get just one damn holiday to ourselves, without having to traipse around in the woods looking for dead people," Booth griped.

To keep from being shot at by crazed hunters, he was in an orange vest topped by an orange baseball hat. He was getting off easy on that count, though – Bones looked like some giant, glowing… Well, pregnant lady, basically. Booth hadn't even known they made orange coveralls, much less orange maternity coveralls.

It was raining – sleeting, actually.

Their turkey dinner was back at Angela and Hodgins' place, being eaten right now by Max and Parker and Angela and Hodgins and Michael and Sweets…

And not them.

And, they were in the woods after some kid had called in finding human remains in a pink dress that matched the pink dress a six-year-old girl named Jeannie Sellers had been wearing when she went missing just over a month ago.

Booth was not in a good mood.

"I'm sure the child we're looking for would have preferred spending her Thanksgiving another way, as well," Bones shot back at him.

That shut him up.

When they finally got to the crime scene, about two miles onto a trail in the Sky Meadow State Park, they were both soaked. Bones was flushed and breathing heavy, and CSU had gotten impatient and had already stomped all over their crime scene. So far, it was looking to be the crappiest Thanksgiving Booth had had in a very long time.

"You sure you're okay, Bones? This isn't exactly hiking weather, and you're not exactly…"

She turned on him with her eyebrows raised and her hands on her hips.

"Uh – Forget it."

"I'd prefer not to. What am I 'not exactly'?"

He gestured vaguely at her stomach – where their little girl had spent the past six months being jounced around like she was on some carnival ride, while Bones checked out crime scenes and worked in the lab and put herself smack dab in the middle of shootouts.

"You know, Bones. You're pregnant."

She game him her patented 'No shit, Sherlock' look.

"Yes, Booth, I am well aware of the fact that I'm pregnant. I have our daughter pressing against my internal organs twenty-four hours a day, and will continue to have her pressing against my internal organs for the next three months. It would be difficult to forget that I'm pregnant."

"You wouldn't know it, the way you act."

He said the words before he really thought about them. Two sheriff's deputies backed away from the scene like they thought they might be about to witness another murder. Instead of fighting him, though, a flash of hurt crossed her face before Bones turned her back on him and stalked over to the remains.

"Female, approximately six to eight years old based on the cranial sutures. Taking into consideration weather and the amount of tissue present on the remains, the victim has likely been here for three to four weeks."

Booth just stood there, his stomach turning. Six years old. The pink dress she'd been wearing was filthy, the white collar torn almost completely from the fabric. Bones had her hand on her pregnant belly, staring down at the little girl.

"Have the parents been notified?" she asked.

Booth shook his head. "We wanted to wait 'til we had a positive ID."

"Of course." She crouched down and looked carefully at the bones, checking the jawbone (mandible), the collarbone (clavicle), and the leg (anterior femur). Booth was getting pretty good at bones himself these days.

"It's her," she finally said. She tried to straighten, but couldn't. Booth offered her his hand, but she ignored him. Instead, she chose to take three times as long to get up by herself.

"The recent break in the clavicle and the healed fracture in the left femur are enough to convince me that this is Jeannie Sellers. Do you want me to come with you to speak with the parents?"

"No – that's all right, Bones. I can handle it. The day's shot to hell, anyway – might as well put the last nail in the coffin."

She gave him a look he couldn't quite read, then turned to the deputies. "Please bag the remains and samples of the soil where she was buried. We'll also need that tree." She pointed to a spruce sapling maybe four feet high. The deputies and CSU just stared at her. To be fair, so did Booth.

"You need the tree?"

"Yes."

She didn't offer any explanation beyond that, because she was pissed. Still, Booth knew Bones well enough to know she didn't joke about that kind of thing. He nodded toward the tree.

"All right, boys, you heard the doctor. Bag the bones, the dirt, and the tree. Chop chop." He smiled a little, trying to get Bones to do the same. "Get it, Bones? Chop chop."

She didn't even look at him, already headed back the way they came.

By now, dinner would be mostly over. Everybody would be stuffed, kicked back watching the game on Hodgins' massive plasma TV. And Bones was pissed at him. He shook his head in frustration, then hurried to catch up with his partner.

* * *

><p>"You can drop me at the lab," Bones said, once they were back on the Beltway headed into DC. It was the first thing she'd said since they started driving.<p>

"What? Bones, you can start working the case tomorrow. You're wet, you're shivering, and you haven't even had any dinner yet."

"I'll take a shower and change into dry clothes at the lab. And I can order in – I've certainly had food delivered to the Jeffersonian before."

"But it's Thanksgiving."

"Don't you have to go speak with the parents now?"

He nodded grimly. "Well – yeah. But that doesn't mean your Thanksgiving's gotta be ruined."

"I believe they'll want to know we're actively trying to find their child's killer, rather than sitting around gorging ourselves watching sports."

Booth sighed.

Bones sighed.

Booth stared straight ahead, his hands tight on the wheel, while Bones just looked out the window. He didn't think a ticker tape parade could drown out the silence between them.

* * *

><p>The Sellers lived about an hour outside DC. They had a decent-sized house with a two-car garage, but the place looked deserted. At first, Booth thought they might have gone away for the holiday, but Mr. Sellers – the dad – opened up a minute or two after he knocked. Though it was Thanksgiving, there was no sign of family visiting. Inside, all the shades were drawn. Booth caught the faint smell of pizza… Obviously, the Sellers weren't celebrating this year.<p>

All Booth had to do was flash his badge and Mr. Sellers knew why he was there. When he called Mrs. Sellers down to talk to Booth with him, she went white the second she saw him – like she'd just realized what was happening. Booth thought about the fact that from now on, this is what Thanksgiving would mean to them: the day they found out their little girl wasn't coming home.

He gave them the news, and they both cried while Booth stood awkwardly in their dining room, hands crossed behind his back. He was wearing jeans and a sweater – he'd changed after the crime scene, but it had seemed weird to put on a suit for Thanksgiving. Now, he wished he'd thought that through. It was easier to play the part of the impartial FBI man when he looked like an impartial FBI man.

"Do you know who did it?" Mr. Sellers asked.

He was a small balding man with glasses and a mustache – the kind of man who probably made a good living keeping track of other people's money.

"Not yet, but we're working on it. My partner's in the lab now analyzing the evidence."

He caught himself just before he said 'remains.' The Sellers obviously knew what he meant, though, because Mrs. Sellers kind of sobbed, and Mr. Sellers put his arm around her shoulders. The woman put her hand on her stomach in that way that Bones did sometimes now, like she was just making sure their baby was still in there.

The thought made him feel a little sick. He looked back at his notepad.

"Your original statement said she was spending the night at a friend's?"

Mr. Sellers glanced at his wife, but she wouldn't look at him. Her jaw hardened.

"If there's something I should know about that night … " Booth prompted when nobody said anything.

Mr. Sellers shook his head. "We didn't know them," he said quietly.

Mrs. Sellers started crying again. She was taller than her husband – not a lot taller, but maybe a couple of inches. Like him, she was thin and wore glasses, but there was a certain delicate prettiness to her that made Booth think Mr. Sellers probably felt like he'd landed somebody out of his league.

"It was our anniversary," Mrs. Sellers said, once she got hold of herself again. "We just wanted a night out – we had reservations at this place in the city we've been wanting to try for years. This was the first year we could afford it."

The husband picked up the story when she faded out. "Jeannie was supposed to stay at her best friend's place, but it fell through at the last minute. But, she has this other school friend – Ashley. We'd met her mother a couple of weeks before, at a parent-teacher conference … "

"She seemed fine," Mrs. Sellers said. She turned to stare out the window. When she told the rest of the story, her voice took on a distant quality – like she wasn't completely with them anymore. "Jeannie didn't want to go, though – she said she had a stomach ache. We told her to just give it a try… She'd have fun, if she just gave it a try."

Outside, the rain had turned to a messy, slushy mix. Everything looked cold and hard and gray. Booth thought suddenly of Bones, all alone in the lab with a dead little girl to examine and no dinner. He closed his notepad and struggled to give Mr. Sellers his full attention.

"We make decisions like that everyday," he said, waiting 'til the man met his eye. "As parents… All the time. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, nothing comes of it. Your daughter goes and has a great time; you come home the next day and life goes back to normal. There's no way you could've known this was that one time."

Mr. Sellers nodded, blinking back his own tears.

"Thank you. But we found out later that their son has a history of – "

Mrs. Sellers left the room suddenly. Her husband stared after her.

"She won't forgive me," he said softly. "I was the one who pushed it." He shook his head, then refocused on Booth. When he spoke again, his voice had unexpected strength to it.

"The son – he's fifteen. A year ago, he was placed in a juvenile facility. We didn't know, of course," he added.

"Of course," Booth said. "Do you know what he was in for?"

The man shook his head. "They wouldn't tell us. As long as she was just missing, we couldn't find out. Now, though… "

"I'll talk to them," Booth promised.

He said his goodbyes and left, feeling like he had a wedge of iron at the bottom of his gut. The fact that his crappy Thanksgiving wasn't even in the same league as the Sellers' crappy Thanksgiving, however, was definitely not lost on him.

* * *

><p>When he got back to the lab, Wendell was working on stripping the flesh from the little girl's bones. It was one of the more grisly parts of the job on a good day. Now, Booth had a hell of a time reminding himself he'd seen way worse over the years.<p>

"Hey, Agent Booth," Wendell greeted him. He nodded toward the bones. "Crappy case for a holiday, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Booth agreed. "You got anything for me?" He looked around the lab, but couldn't see Bones anywhere.

"Dr. Brennan's in Hodgins' office," Wendell said, reading his mind. "I think she's uh… dissecting a tree. Looks like cause of death here was a blow to the back of the head – see this fissure along the temporal bone?"

Booth nodded, though he wasn't actually interesting in getting that close.

"It looks like she might've gotten hit in the face first, though – there's a crack here, on the nasal bone."

"So – blunt instrument, fists… What are we talking here?"

"I'm not sure yet," the intern admitted.

"Any sign of sexual assault?"

"No – clothing's intact, no trauma that we could detect, no seminal fluids."

Booth's stomach turned at just the words. "Well, thank God for that, anyway." He looked the skeleton over slowly, from head to foot.

"Once you know the weapon and exact COD let me know, okay?"

"Yeah, of course. Though…" he hesitated for long enough that Booth looked at him, waiting for him to finish.

"Spit it out, Wendell. We're not getting any younger here."

"Sorry – I was just thinking. The damage to the temporal bone doesn't look like it was inflicted from a blow to the head – it's more consistent with a fall."

"So… What, you're saying this might've been an accident?"

"I can't say anything for sure yet – but off the record, if I was just gonna give an educated guess, I'd say there's a good chance, yeah."

Booth took a breath. An accident. Did that make it any better, really? Jeannie Sellers was still dead. The Sellers family would still spend the rest of their lives mourning the little girl they lost. He turned his back on Wendell and went to find Bones.

She was in Hodgins' office, just like Wendell had said. She had the special headphone gizmos on that she'd gotten for the baby, and she was bent over a table looking closely at the sapling they'd taken from the woods. It took him a few seconds before he realized she was crying.

"Hey, Bones." He touched her shoulder; she started, whirling around while she wiped quickly at her eyes. When she realized it was just him, she relaxed a little.

"Booth – I didn't hear you."

He gestured to the headphones, and she took them off. The lab was colder than it usually was – which meant Bones had probably forgotten to turn on the heat when she came in. She did that sometimes. At least she'd changed out of the wet coveralls before she started working.

"You were crying."

She wiped at her eyes again. "I know. It's just the hormones."

Sure it was. "Yeah. I'm feeling a little hormonal myself today."

She scrunched her forehead at him in that way he liked. "There have been studies conducted suggesting – "

Booth held up a hand to stop her. "I just mean the case is getting to me, Bones."

"Ah. Well… If it's any comfort, I find that I'm feeling a great deal of empathy for the family, as well."

"And that's why you're in here crying over a tree?"

He meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, but instead of laughing, Bones just started crying all over again. He wrapped her in his arms, relieved when she let him. Her head nestled just under his chin, and she didn't say anything for a couple of minutes.

"I shouldn't have taken the tree," she said. This brought a fresh wave of tears and a garbled explanation that Booth couldn't have figured out if his life depended on it.

"Hey, ssh, Bones. Easy." He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, then pulled back from her just a little. "What do you mean, you shouldn't have taken the tree?"

"There were epithelials on the branches – here." She pointed to a spot around the middle where there weren't any branches. "I believe the victim was standing here, holding on to the trunk – perhaps trying to hide from her assailant – when she received a blow to the face. I thought perhaps the killer's DNA may have transferred to the tree, but based on the way she was killed, it's highly unlikely that he or she would have been close enough. I took this tree for nothing. And it was very young. It could have lived a healthy, long life."

Booth took her hand and pulled her away from the damned tree, and toward Hodgins' couch – where he knew for a fact that Hodgins and Angela had done a lot of their, uh, extracurricular activities, since Hodgins got the office. All the same, he sat Bones down, and then took a seat beside her.

"You didn't know you wouldn't get any evidence, Bones. There's no way you could've."

"I should have been more cognizant of what I was doing, though. It was just reckless disregard for another living thing."

"Hey, Bones." He took her hands in his, waiting a few seconds until she looked him in the eye. "You think maybe you're not just upset about the tree dying young? Maybe, what's really bothering you is this little girl."

Instead of giving him any credit at all, she just looked at him like he'd just told her the moon was made of bubblegum.

"Of course I'm upset about this little girl. Booth, in a few months we will have a daughter," she said, like he might've forgotten. "I wouldn't be human if I didn't make the connection between the child Wendell is examining and the one growing in my uterus. Particularly with the flood of hormones, which naturally make a mother more sensitive to children as a way of ensuring she bonds with the infant when it's born."

"Oh."

"But, just because a child died doesn't give me license to go into the forest and chop down perfectly healthy young trees billy nilly."

He squelched a smile at that. "It's willy nilly, Bones."

"Well – regardless, the statement holds true."

Booth stood, pulling Bones with him with a lot more effort than it had taken a few months ago.

"C'mon. We've got cause of death – or Wendell's at least close to it, and there's no way we can save your tree at this point. I'm taking you home."

To his surprise, she didn't argue.

They rode together in a much nicer silence than they'd ridden in earlier that day, but it was still thick with sadness and the weight of a dead little girl and the parents she'd left behind. When they got to Bones' place, Booth went upstairs with her for a quick bite of Thanksgiving leftovers Max had dropped off, then reluctantly left. It was just after seven o'clock, and he had a hunch that he wanted to check out before another night passed.

So, at seven-thirty that night, with Christmas lights sparkling and a thin layer of snow on the ground, Booth went to talk to the family Jeannie Sellers had been staying with when she disappeared. The Whitneys lived in a one-story log cabin on the edge of the park where Jeannie's body had been found – a brother and sister and their mom. The boy answered the door.

"You found that girl?" he asked, as soon as Booth flashed his ID.

"We did. I just wanted to talk to you and your sister for a few minutes. Is your mom home?"

"She's working. You'll have to come back tomorrow." Jeff Whitney was fifteen, tall and skinny, with blonde hair cut short and blue eyes that said he was definitely hiding something.

"This won't take long – you don't mind if I just ask a couple questions, right? I mean, I came all this way…"

The kid stood there another minute or so while Booth was freezing his ass off on the doorstep before he finally, reluctantly opened up.

The house was small but homey, and neat as a pin. Pictures of the kids decorated the walls, and the place smelled like turkey and stuffing and all the fixings. Booth's stomach rumbled, but he ignored it.

A few minutes later, he was sitting at the kitchen table with Jeff, who'd given his sister clear orders to stay in her room. Booth had checked the teenager's file after talking to the Sellers. They were right – last year, he'd been sent to juvie. He'd been picked up for boosting a car with some friends, though as far as Booth could tell from the file, Jeff hadn't actually been in the car when they got arrested. Still, the fates must not have been shining on him that day, because the judge decided to send a message to joyriding teens far and wide by throwing every kid remotely involved with the incident straight to detention. Given the circumstances, Booth could understand why Jeff looked a little wary now.

The teenager clenched his fists and stared at the table while Booth asked his questions.

"So, that night Jeannie went missing – what were you guys doing again?" he asked, like he couldn't quite remember the details.

Jeff looked up, just for a second. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do. I think you and your sister and Jeannie were out in the woods – I mean, you're out here in the sticks, what else are you gonna do on a Friday night when you don't have plans? Maybe Ashley was bugging you to play with her, so you finally figured… What the hell, nothing better to do."

The way Jeff glanced at him told Booth he was on the right track.

"So, you're out in the woods fooling around, maybe playing hide n' seek," he said, thinking back to Bones' theory that Jeannie had been hiding behind the tree just before she died. "Or maybe they're playing hide n' seek, and you're just doing your own thing…"

"My mom asked me to keep an eye on them," Jeff interrupted.

Booth went quiet, waiting for the boy to continue. When he didn't, Booth started up again, nice and easy.

"But something happened while you were watching them, didn't it? Maybe the game got rough? Jeannie fell?"

"She didn't fall," Jeff said. His voice was tight, and he wouldn't look Booth in the eye for anything. "It was stupid," he continued. "This stupid freak accident that's gonna ruin our lives."

_Our lives._

Booth studied him. "What did your sister do, Jeff? She's just a kid. If it was an accident – "

"They won't do anything?" the boy asked sharply. Now, he looked Booth full in the eyes, rage and frustration and grief all waging a war clear as day.

"I wasn't even in that stupid car, and they sent me to juvie. There's no way I'm letting something like that happen to my little sister. So, do whatever you want to me. Whatever. I did it. It was a stupid freak accident, and it was my fault."

Booth took a deep breath, leaning in a little closer to the boy.

"You've gotta trust me, okay? I know you don't have a reason in the world to, but just this once… You've gotta be straight with me. One way or another, the scientists working this case will figure out what happened to that little girl. If you tell me before that happens, I can let people know how you helped on the case. It'll make a big difference. And if you're telling the truth, the evidence will prove that."

Jeff Whitney, fifteen going on thirty-five, leaned back in his chair and looked at Booth with sad, dark eyes, and told the truth.

* * *

><p>"Booth, what are you doing?"<p>

It was seven o'clock on the morning after Thanksgiving, and Bones was still sleeping. Or she was trying to, anyway. Not that it was that unusual for her to be sleeping at seven o'clock, necessarily. It was just that, right now, Booth wasn't really interested in sleeping anymore.

"C'mon, Bones, get up. I've got a surprise for you. Get dressed."

She opened one eye. Her hair had gone funny the way it did when she showered and didn't wait for it to dry before she went to bed. Her belly was huge, which meant she took up way more than her fair share of the bed. Booth kissed her cheek, then he kissed her belly.

"Wake up, my girls. It's a beautiful day out there."

"We have today off, and you told me last night that you successfully solved the case. I don't want a surprise at seven a.m. on a day when we don't have to work."

"You'll like this surprise, Bones. Promise."

He handed her the one cup of coffee she allowed herself these days, and waited patiently – okay, not patiently, but close enough, dammit – for her to get up and get dressed. While she complained about all the clothes she didn't fit into anymore, Booth told her about the case: about the stupid game of Frisbee in the woods, and the way the disk caught Jeannie Sellers right at the bridge of her nose when Ashley sent it her way, knocking the little girl backward.

"It was an accident – they could have called the police. It was foolish of them not to," Bones said after he'd explained everything.

"Jeff's already been through the system once – both him and his mom saw firsthand how it didn't matter whether or not he was innocent, or what he had to say. Nobody listened the first time, when it was just a stupid stolen car… Why should they listen now, when it's a dead little girl."

"So, the mother conspired with them? She knew how the girl died?"

"She knew they had something to do with it – she just didn't want to know what. Sometimes, people get stuck in a place and they figure if they just stick their head in the sand, maybe the problem will just disappear."

"That's a foolish way to approach difficulties," she said. "Problems don't simply vanish, like magic."

"No," Booth agreed. "I guess they know that now."

"What will happen to them?"

"As long as the evidence backs up their story, not too much – Jeff may have to go back to juvie for a little while for covering the whole thing up."

Bones was standing at the bathroom mirror with the door open, staring at her reflection. Booth came in and stood beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"Let's not talk about the case anymore for a while, okay?"

She ran a brush through her auburn hair and looked at him thoughtfully. "This bothered you a great deal. The whole case – the little girl, speaking with the parents… Even the resolution isn't satisfying to you?"

"It just scared me, Bones. Cases like this… You can teach your kid all the right stuff – don't talk to strangers, look both ways before you cross the street, hold somebody's hand when you go in a crowded store… But you can't guard against stupid crap like a runaway Frisbee and a kid who got railroaded by the system once before."

A little flicker of fear touched her eyes. This was supposed to be his territory, he knew – he was supposed to be the one who believed everything always worked out for the best. That God or Fate or some combination of the two was looking out for them every step of the way. He kissed her, fast, and worked hard to get the old Seeley Booth optimism back where it belonged.

"I told you… Let's talk about something else for a while. Like if you're ever gonna be ready to go."

"I'm ready."

She didn't move from where she was standing, though. Booth gave her a look.

"We can't teleport there, Bones. You're gonna have to move."

"I know." She still didn't budge, though. Finally, she gave in and told him what was on her mind. "I look different now," she said, frowning into the mirror.

"You look beautiful." With another woman, saying it might just be a defense mechanism… With Bones, it turned out Booth was being honest. Every day he was with her, she got just a little more gorgeous.

"You said I looked beautiful before."

"That was a different kind of beautiful. That was a… squinty, untouchably hot forensic anthropologist beautiful." He silently congratulated himself on the save.

"And what kind of beautiful am I now?"

He turned her so they were facing each other, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Now you're… Mine." He looked her in the eye with a smile that he hoped came close to conveying just how crazy about her he was. "You're The-one-I-get-to-wake-up-to-every-morning,-the-one-I-come-home-to-every-night,-having-my-baby,-rocking-my-socks-off- every-so-often-for-no-reason-at-all, beautiful."

She was trying not to smile, but he could tell from her eyes that she was happy with his answer.

"And that's better than being a squinty, untouchably hot forensic anthropologist?"

"A thousand times better, Bones."

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, they were on the road.<p>

"Why is there so much traffic?" she asked once they were back on the Beltway. "I thought most people took the day after Thanksgiving off."

"Black Friday."

She gave him blank look.

"The biggest shopping day of the year, Bones – it's like going into battle at malls today."

"So, where are we going?"

"The nursery," he said.

And that was all he'd say, until they pulled into the Greenfield Family Nursery and Greenhouses, half an hour later.

"What are we doing here?" Bones asked as she hauled herself out of the truck.

"You're gonna help me pick out a tree."

"I don't want a live Christmas tree – I've already told you that."

She had, but that was a fight for another day.

"I know, Bones – we're not here to cut down a tree. We're gonna go plant one."

And just like that, he was back in Bones' good graces. She didn't say a word, just slipped her hand into his while they walked up and down the aisles of greenhouse after greenhouse, searching for just the right tree. Finally, in the last one, they found a spruce sapling about the size of the one she'd had cut down the day before.

"It looks healthy enough to survive the winter," she said. "And the soil is good there – not to mention the excellent sunlight."

Booth paid the man for the tree. Getting it in the back of the SUV wasn't easy, but they managed. Bones held his hand and kept checking the tree while he drove them back to the state park.

Like an idiot, he'd forgotten he would have to trek through two miles of trails lugging a friggin' tree this time, but the look on Bones' face made it worth the effort. By the time they got to the clearing, they were both sweating and out of breath.

"You sure you're okay, Bones?"

"You have to stop asking me that. If I wasn't okay, I would tell you."

He wasn't completely sure that was true, but he let it go. Bones stood by while he dug a hole in the partially frozen ground – which, like everything else about this mission, wasn't easy. It was beautiful outside, though, which made it a little more bearable – blue skies and bright sunshine, birds singing, everything crisp and clear. He avoided the spot where Jeannie Sellers' body was found, and did his best to keep the case out of his head.

Once the hole was done, Bones helped him put the tree in. She squatted awkwardly beside him and patted the earth around the base of the trunk, taking care that the roots were covered and the little tree was well-grounded.

"I know that our child isn't fully formed yet, but I already love her very much," Bones said suddenly. She was quiet when she said it, which made Booth think she'd probably been thinking about this for a while.

"I know you do, Bones."

She looked at him. They were still kneeling on the cold ground beside their tree.

"I would never endanger her."

"Of course not, Bones – "

"But you're always questioning my choices, implying that I am somehow taking this pregnancy less seriously than you. Nearly every book I read now, every study I look up, every podcast I listen to… It's all about how best to ensure that our child is healthy when she's born. And a significant part of the research I've done suggests that infants are born healthier when their mothers remain active during the pregnancy."

Booth sat down on the cold ground. Bones kind of tumbled after him, in a way that reminded him of something Winnie the Pooh would do. They faced each other in the forest, the sun shining in patchwork patterns on the fallen leaves around them. Booth took her hand.

"I know you love this baby, Bones. And I know you're doing everything right – I do," he repeated, when it looked like she might not be so sure. "I couldn't ask for a better mother for this baby. She's gonna be healthy, and happy, and loved. And you're gonna be a great mom."

She smiled at that, just for a second, before she remembered she was being serious.

"So, if you know all of those things, why are you continually questioning my choices?"

"Because I'm me, Bones," he said, with a little more force than he'd meant to. "I'm the dad. And while you can take vitamins and pipe music down there and eat right and feel her moving around inside you, all I can do is stand back and hold my breath and pray like hell that things turn out okay."

She stared at him, wide-eyed, which made him feel a little self-conscious about his outburst.

"You lack control because I'm the one carrying the child, and so in order to feel as though you play at least a small part in the final outcome, you become overly insistent that I approach the pregnancy in ways that you're most comfortable."

Booth's eyebrows went up a good half-inch. "That sounded pretty shrinky, Bones. Have you been talking to Sweets?"

"It's not shrinky at all, Booth. Anthropologically, men have been trying to control the way that women approach pregnancy for years – it's common practice in male-dominated societies. It's the reason western medicine has adopted practices like sterile hospital rooms and physicians rather than midwives – "

"I don't know, Bones… I kind of like those things."

"Of course you do – because you understand those things. They fall within the parameters of what you deem acceptable medical practices. But what you fail to take into consideration is just how large a part you _do_ play in this pregnancy."

"Well yeah, Bones, I know that," he said, turning a little red. "I mean… I had a front row seat for the good stuff that night."

"Beyond that," she said, with a roll of those baby blue eyes and a cute little smile. "Our daughter responds to your voice as much as she does mine. And when you come into a room, the sight of you triggers a release of dopamine into my system that our child can feel. She can sense the way that I respond to you, and studies suggest that that influence – even at this stage of development – will play a significant role in her perception of not only you, but all men."

Booth just sat there for a second, soaking that in. He knew, of course, that the baby did the mambo every time he sang to her – he'd felt her tiny feet kicking through Bones' belly, like some beautiful little alien. But the rest…

"That's really true?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, like it was a stupid question. Which, of course, it was – Bones wouldn't lie about this stuff. Or anything, for that matter.

"So, when we fight and you get pissed at me, she knows?"

Bones hesitated. "She doesn't know why I'm angry – or even what anger is. She responds to fluctuations in my hormone levels, because that impacts her on a cellular level. But she has no reasoning skills, Booth – no understanding of cause and effect."

Booth stood suddenly, and very gently helped Bones to her feet.

"If I make you cry, she knows that," he said quietly. It was possible he was starting to freak out a little.

"Booth, you're taking this the wrong way. I was trying to provide comfort."

"Well, mission accomplished, Bones. Now, I not only have to worry about the effect what you're doing is having on our kid, now I've gotta worry about what I'm doing, too."

He started to head back through the woods, but Bones stopped him with a hand on his arm. He expected her to be pissed, but instead her eyes were sparkling like it was Christmas morning.

"What are you so happy about?" he asked suspiciously.

"You're being unreasonable."

He lifted an eyebrow. "And that's good how, exactly?"

"You're being unreasonable about an emotional issue, which I'm being very reasonable about."

"Still not seeing the good here, Bones."

"I'm the emotionally mature one in this scenario, Booth. I'm the one who's right. About _feelings_."

Finally, it dawned on him. "So, the teacher's become the student – is that what you're saying, Bones?"

"Exactly," she said. She looked a little smug now.

"I'm not being completely unreasonable."

"Yes, you are," she argued. "You've already admitted that your oversensitivity to my approach to the pregnancy is due to feeling as though you lack control of the outcome. And now you're clearly panicking about the role you _do_ play in our daughter's development. You're freaking up."

"Out, Bones. Freaking out."

She shrugged, still smiling. "It doesn't matter what you call it – it doesn't change the fact that I'm right. And you're wrong."

"I don't know if I'd say _wrong, _Bones. It's just a matter of perspective."

He started walking down the path, stepping to the side so she could join him. Draped his arm over her shoulders.

"But your perspective is erroneous – that's the point I'm trying to make."

"Is it? Huh. I guess I missed that."

She turned to look at him, with a roll of those baby blues he was so damned crazy about. "And now you're making fun of me."

"Would I do that?"

"You do that constantly, Booth. If I didn't like you so much, I might take offense."

They kept up the banter all the way back to the car, the sun shining down, Bones warm and laughing and close the whole way. The holiday might have been crap, but just in case he'd missed it before, it was suddenly clear to him that Booth had a hell of a lot to be thankful for this year.

* * *

><p>That night, it snowed again. He and Bones cuddled up in her bed, Booth's ear pressed to her belly while he crooned to the baby.<p>

"So, she really likes it when I sing, huh?"

Bones laughed a little. "Yes, she seems to. It makes me wonder how musical she'll be…"

He looked up. "Wait a minute – what's that supposed to mean? You like my singing too, right? I've got a good voice."

Her eyes slid from his for just a second, her forehead furrowed. "Of course _I _enjoy it when you sing. But that could have something to do with the hormones flooding my system."

"Whoa." He sat up beside her, his back against the headboard. "You don't think I'm a good singer?"

She was starting to look worried. "It's possible that you may have an issue with… tone deafness. Just a small issue," she rushed in, when she saw how crushed he was.

"Well, this is just great. While you're teaching your daughter about classical music and bone doctor stuff, I'm gonna be the tone deaf schmuck who upsets her mom and tortures her with off-key classic rock."

Instead of sympathizing with him, Bones just smiled. Then, she laughed outright. Booth raised his eyebrows.

"I'm not seeing the humor here, Bones."

"No – of course not. But neither is _she_. Here – feel."

She took his hand and put it low on her belly. He felt the movement after a couple of seconds – that bare little flutter, followed up with an unmistakeable, tiny little foot poking away at Bones' stomach.

"And now I've upset the baby." Okay, he was definitely freaked out now. This had all been way easier with Parker, when he and Rebecca hadn't had a clue what to expect when they were expecting.

"No, I don't believe so," Bones said. "I think she wants you to sing again. She started up the moment you stopped."

Booth looked at her warily. Suddenly, he was feeling a little self-conscious. "Maybe you should do it, Bones, if I'm so terrible."

"She doesn't like my singing nearly as much as yours. Please, Booth."

He lay back down with his hands on Bones' belly. Yeah, he was definitely feeling silly now. He glanced up at Bones before he started. "You could put in earplugs if you want. Or maybe listen to your iPod."

He'd meant it as a joke – kind of – but Bones frowned. Instead of saying anything, she just shifted to make herself more comfortable. Booth started singing softly. After a while, he forgot about being self-conscious, focused instead on the tiny flutters he felt beneath his hands. On the snow falling slow and lazy outside the window. On Bones' even breathing, her warmth, the way she rested her hand at the back of his neck while he sang. Their little girl settled down before he got to the second verse of Stairway to Heaven.

"Angela told me once that, every so often, she would experience moments of perfect happiness," Bones said all of a sudden, just as Booth was winding down. "These fleeting moments that she said she wished she could freeze. She said she wanted to live inside those moments forever. I never used to understand what she meant."

Booth sat up. He wasn't surprised to see tears in her eyes. As tough as she'd been once upon a time, it turned out pregnancy had made Bones kind of a marshmallow. He scooched back up to sit beside her, putting his arm around her to pull her close.

"And now, Bones? You're saying my off-key singing is part of your perfect moment?"

She sniffled a little, then socked him in the stomach. Not lightly, either. Bones was never one to pull punches.

"I'm being serious. I love your off-key singing. I love that our child gets as excited as I do when you enter a room. I love that when I come home at night, there are things I can't identify in my refrigerator and your socks in my laundry hamper. In moments like these, I feel as though I can just let go of all of the terrible things that could happen down the road, and simply be happy with the way things are. I've never done that before."

He kissed her then, tasting the orange juice she'd just finished and the chapstick she wore and that earthy, familiar _Bones _taste that he was sure he'd never get enough of.

"You don't need to live inside these moments, babe. It just gets better from here. We've got a lifetime of freeze-worthy moments on their way."

There was a second there, looking into those blue eyes, that he expected her to fight him on it. Instead, she thought about it for a second before she let it go. They turned off the lights and lay down together, Bones nuzzled in as close as she could get with her pregnant belly. Booth thought fleetingly of the tree they'd planted in the woods earlier that day. Of the little girl who'd lost her life, and all the people who would never be the same because of it. He closed his eyes, and prayed silently – for Jeannie Sellers' parents, and the Whitney family, and the sapling they'd left to fend for itself with winter coming on. He prayed for Parker, and Bones, and the baby Bones was carrying.

He'd just about made it through everyone and was getting around to saying a few thank yous for all the people he'd just prayed to protect when Bones stirred beside him.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I will in a minute," he said.

She looked at him sleepily, her face caught in a kind of blue glow from the streetlights shining in the window. "You could take singing lessons, if you're truly concerned."

He laughed a little – he'd completely forgotten about the voice thing. "I think I'll be okay, Bones. As long as you and the baby like it, I can handle never playing to a sold-out crowd at the Paladium."

"We like it very much," she said. She snuggled in close. This time, lying there with the woman of his dreams by his side, Booth kept his eyes wide open. He stared at the ceiling, and listened to her breathe, and counted his blessings. He was only halfway through the list before his eyes drifted shut.

_FIN_


End file.
